


Debts Repaid

by TheDweeb



Series: FFXIVWrite2018 [12]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Xaela (Final Fantasy XIV), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mild Language, Organized Crime, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2018, the tiny angry loan shark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDweeb/pseuds/TheDweeb
Summary: If you're going to play the game always make sure you either have the better hand or are the better player. They had and were neither, but then she held all the cards to begin with.





	Debts Repaid

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 20 of FFXIVWrite2018

This was a bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea the moment Melvin came back empty handed. Then he had started talking nonsense about the client not letting him in, and ‘’E says ‘e would only speak wiff you, Boss Lady.’ She could smell the bullshit from the door where he stood.

“Remind me again why I pay you?” she said, clearly exasperated.

“Aw, come on, Boss. I tried me ‘ardest, honest to gods I did.”

Neither he nor the gods were honest, but she let it slide. There was a game being played involving promises and money. Someone thought they could change the rules on her, but that was fine. She was an expert player, and only a novice thought they could use someone like Melvin with any degree of subtlety.

“‘Ere it is!”

The pair stopped in front of a modest looking home in what could be considered the lower-middle class area of Limsa Lominsa. Merchants that preferred the sea air to that of the desert were often found here, the ones who made a decent enough living but had not managed to amass a fortune. Those merchants also had a habit of employing pirates and other rough types, and a good few of them had come through her doors looking for a loan to go chasing rainbows which she was happy enough to give. After all, she always got her money back one way or another. Today looked like “another” route.

“Well? Knock on the door,” Bikki said, arms crossed under her bosom and eyes narrowed to show her clear irritation.

It was almost cute how Melvin could barely restrain his glee. She had hired him as her collector–which was fancy talk for knee-breaker–precisely because he could not lie his way out of anything. Too, his poker face was atrocious and while he was not the most intimidating when spoken to at length he was big and could look meaner than an angry coeurl when he had a mind to. He also had no qualms about breaking bones of people who had not personally wronged him, so he had been a perfect fit. Alas, someone put some ideas into his head and now she would have to let him go.

“Oy! Open ‘er up! Brought ‘er by like ye asked, y’bilge sucker!”

She bit her lip to stop the smile from spreading across her face. If she gave away her hand too early then the game would be lost. Not that Melvin would notice it for what it was, but the man that opened the door would.

“Ah, Miss Bikki. Please, come in.”

“Save your snake oil for the poor folk you rob, Carver,” she said, waving her hand in his face dismissively as she strode in like she owned the place. If things had gone right she would have, but that was just how business went sometimes. “I’m here, so where’s my money.”

The barely restrained rage on the merchant’s face had her gleefully giggling on the inside. She had played along and come to his home turf where he thought he had the upper hand because of whatever promise he had made to Melvin. That he had to pretend she still had the upper hand when he was so certain that she did not clearly made him agitated. That was one of her favorite parts of the game, honestly. What she did not enjoy, however, was waiting, and it was clear he was going to drag it out.

“Come now, Miss Bikki, surely I can offer you a drink or perhaps some biscuits?” he wheedled while Melvin moved to stand behind her. “They are fresh from The Bismarck.”

“You can offer all you like, but unless it has anything to do with you fulfilling your contract I am not going to care,” she replied as she inspected her nails and pretended not to hear Melvin cough.

“I…see. A pity. They’re quite delicious you know. But about your payment…”

His pause was telling and a telltale shuffle at her right was all the warning she had before Melvin made his move. Fortunately she was faster than the lumbering highlander–that had been another factor in hiring him–and she was out of the chair before he could catch hold of her. She ignored his cry of dismay and the subsequent thump as he presumably fell over the chair as she ran right for Carver. The oily merchant actually squealed in alarm and she silenced him with a punch to the jaw. She was not the strongest person by any means, but she knew the shock of it being her punch would send him toppling.

“All you had to do was give me the money, Carver,” she said as she kicked him in the ribs, making sure to “accidentally” catch him with the pointed heel of her boot. “You would still have your “medicines” to sell and doing it out of a shack would lend you some actual authenticity.”

“You bitch, I’ll tear your throat out! Melvin! Be useful, you idiot, unless you don’t want to be paid!”

Bikki spared enough time to deliver another swift kick to the fallen merchant, this time to his face, before she took off for the door. She tossed what furniture she could as she went–a lovely glass oil lamp from Ul’dah, a small side table, and some books for good measure–all the while letting Melvin close in. Once he was close enough that he could brush the tip of her tail, she immediately veered right which sent him running straight into the solid wood door. Tipping over a shelf that was nearby onto the fallen hireling, she smiled sweetly at Carver who had finally managed to get to his knees.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Carver. Especially not to me.”

Having no other option left, she quickly moved to the nearest window and saw herself out, promptly shutting it to muffle Carver’s screams of anger. She had little time to make her next move, so she reached into the hidden pocket of her dress and produced a wand. Rods had the ability to hold larger foci which made destructive spells that much more powerful, but wands were so much more easily concealed. Besides, Carver’s personal aesthetics had him eschewing Limsa Lominsa’s stone aesthetics for the woods of the Shroud he had been run out of for his business practices and all she needed was a touch of fire to set the place ablaze.

She could hear Carver’s screams of rage and fear from inside, and a thought occurred to her that had her stalking around the side of the house wand still in hand. Every window she came across was promptly covered in ice. Oh, it would melt eventually, once the fire got hot enough, but by that time the smoke or heat would have done both men in. As she pocketed the wand, she felt a pang of remorse for Melvin but as quick as it came she dismissed it. She had learned long ago to never give second chances. Her mother’s corpse had taught that lesson well.

As the sea wind blew in, the fire began to spread rapidly and Bikki allowed herself a small smile before she began to scream. Being so close to the poorer district meant that the scuffle inside had been ignored by anyone that happened to be home, but as she screamed and called out ‘Fire! Fire!’ more people began to emerge. She summoned tears to her eyes and her hair and clothing were already mussed from her fleeing Melvin so anyone, even the most shrewd Yellowjacket, coming upon her would assume her panic was real. Brix would approve the acting, that was certain.

The roaring heat of the fire sent her and all newly gathered watchers back and she knew her work was done. When she was finally able to go back home, after being coddled, consoled, and questioned, she would have herself a glass of wine and look over her newly acquired assets. She wondered if Carver had actually read the contract to know that even death would not get him out of paying what he owed or if he had just assumed she would not have the guts to ever kill him? In the end it did not matter because like all who had come before him Carver had paid his debts–and, like some of his fellow debtors, he had learned why she was called Blacktongue–and all Bikki had lost was an easily replaceable worker.


End file.
